The Road
by my99by
Summary: A boy and a police water make an intense journey across the United States amidst the zombie apocalypse. On their journey however, they will encounter many threats, both alive and undead. But how is a mere boy supposed to stay alive when his humanity, faith, and sanity is put on the line? (Warning: Multi-part story. Main TWD characters will not appear until later. Takes place in S2)
1. Chapter 1: The Onset

Part 1

Despite the odd stories circling the media, life progressed as usual for common citizens. However, these same odd stories began making their way into the news, and _that_ was enough to get people's attention. One of the earliest involved a man in his late thirties who was walking to his car after working a late shift. He didn't notice the lone figure in the parking lot until he was directly behind him. The police were notified when nearby residents reporting screaming and shouting, and by the time they arrived they were met with a horrorshow. The victim lay on the ground, blood rushing from a severe wound in his neck. The assailant appeared to be under the influence of an unknown substance. Police opened fire on the assailant, but to the astonishment of the officers, he seemed unfazed. Residents reported hearing dozens of shots before the night was silent again. The victim was taken to a nearby hospital where he died of his injuries.

This story shocked people, but as time passes people forget. Similar events began to unfold days later of "cannibalistic attacks." To add to the strange stories, there were reports of a sickness spreading across the U.S. All the symptoms were flu-like and thus no one was worried. After all, _everyone_ had gotten their flu shot.

It was on a Thursday at 8:00pm when things had gotten worse. An entire county in the backwoods of Pennsylvania was put under quarantine by the U.S military.

One day all contact from this county was just...lost. No one could make phone calls to the towns within the country, and no one ever left. Before that had happened though, the news was reporting that the sickness had spread at an alarming rate throughout all of the towns with a high mortality rate. The national guard arrived, and everything that happened next was not disclosed to the public.

Across the United States similar reports were coming in. The sickness was being reported in several states. A few weeks later, reports from all over the world were coming in.

No one knew where it came from. No one knew how it spread. But things went from bad to worse when schools began to close, people began wearing facemasks, and the infected began to die. Only there was problem. The laws of nature were changing for the human race. What was dead, would not stay dead.

 _Thunk!_

Solid steel flew through the air and sliced into cold, dead flesh with a sickening crunching sound. The silver blade sank two inches deep, cutting through the scalp, skull, and finally reaching into the gelatinous tissue of the. Brain.

One tug, two tugs, three tugs. The hatchet was released with a wet squelching sound as it was ripped free, dark arterial blood dripping from the blade. She probably used to be pretty, with her dirty blonde hair, an oval like face, and sporting a pink tank top with a unique floral design. But who she once was was gone; her lips had peeled back to reveal slimy and blackened incisors, and her eyes were now made up of a pure white film with no pupils to be seen. The iris was completely gone, making the entire eyeball to be a soullessly white color.

The reanimated corpse fell down face first on the hardwood floor, her split open forehead pumping dark red blood onto the floor. The floor was also home to three other dead bodies that had been taken care of in a similar fashion. The living room was filled with the coppery scent of blood and the sickly sweet scent of decay. But the room's only living occupant was not worried; the smell would go away if he took the bodies outside.

Aaron was a boy of sixteen years of age, had curly black hair, and had a skin tone of medium brown. His mouth and nose were covered by the black surgical mask he had found. His amber eyes scanned the room for any other walking cadavers, and his ears remained completely alert for any foreign sounds.

Three knocks came from the second floor of the suburban house, and Aaron recognized it immediately. A male voice called to him from upstairs. "All clear."

A man with short blond hair, stormy grey eyes and a police uniform came downstairs, a maple wood baseball bat in his hand.

"Good news, none of them things was upstairs, so we're contamination free up there. Seeing the mess down here, we've got some cleaning to do."

Ryan Welsh was an Atlanta police officer in his early thirties who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, but there was little he could do about that now.

Ryan had lost all forms of communication with other law enforcement, and as far as he was concerned, was on his own.

"Help me with this." Aaron told Ryan as he grabbed one of the corpses by the ankles. Ryan stopped him and went back upstairs. When he came back down he had several bundles of sheets in his arms. It had taken them a total of ten minutes to wrap up the bodies and drag them outside to the dumpster on the left side of the house.

When they returned, Aaron sat down on one of the sofas and found the television remote stuffed between the cushions. After flipping on the TV, he switched to every news station he could think of. Nothing had changed; it was the same emergency broadcast message that appeared for possibly every situation.

Ryan frequently would call 911 to try to get ahold of someone, but each time he got the same response. _The number you have dialed is unavailable. Please, try again later._

Nothing's better than the classic _fuck you_ from the phone company.

Up until now, the news had been on 24/7, giving people tons and tons of useless information. Be sure to drink bottled water, avoid those who appear to be sick/exposed to the infection, remain indoors and blah blah blah.

But what was their answer for the dead rising to feast on the living?

Ryan was sitting on one of the living room sofas on his cell phone, most likely checking social media for any new updates in the chaos happening outside.

Ryan was disturbed by what he was seeing as he scrolled through youtube videos on his phone detailing the anarchy happening in cities and towns across the country.

SWAT forces storming entire malls filled with infected, police gunning down infected citizens in the streets, and people looting stores and rioting.

The world really was falling apart.

Aaron switched to a different channel, and was pleasantly surprised to find that every other channel was broadcasting its regularly scheduled programming.

He could seriously go for an episode of Doctor Who right now.

"How're you holding up kid?"Ryan asked.

Aaron shook his head. Despite that things were calm for now, he was still processing everything that was happening. Aaron wasn't even from Georgia. He was a kid from Philly who had come here for a class trip. As of now all of his classmates were dead with him being the only survivor. The past week had been a complete nightmare, as he had literally been going from place to place, fighting the dead.

Dead.

That's what they were, plain and simple.

"We've got work to do tomorrow. We've got little to no supplies right now, and we're gonna need some travelling equipment. Backpacks, luggage bags, clothing, anything we can get our hands on. I have a feeling that it's gonna take a while for the government to clean things up, you with me?"

Aaron nodded.

The next day was a productive one at that; Aaron armed himself with a hatchet and a kitchen knife he found in the pantry of the house, and he Ryan went out into the neighborhood to loot the abandoned homes. The outbreak had hit this suburban neighborhood fairly hard, as vehicles lay abandoned in the streets, some front lawns were littered with corpses, and on one street a fire hydrant spewed water thirty feet into the air, a result of an SUV crashing into it.

However, the neighborhood was a goldmine for loot. Aaron and Ryan had managed to find travel backpacks, medical supplies, food, clothes that fit, and anything else they would need. But to make things better, they had stumbled upon one house that held a nice surprise for the both of them.

"I haven't checked the basement yet, can you gimme a hand with the lock?"

Ryan asked. They stood in front of a door that was entirely made of metal and was painted grey. This didn't match the decor or colors of the rest of the house at all.

Aaron pulled his hatchet off of his belt and stepped forward. He swung the bladed weapon at the combination lock that kept the door sealed. The lock broke and fell to floor. "I'll head down first, watch my back."

The basement was dark, but no foreign smells wafted up to greet them, indicating nothing dead lurking around. Still, Ryan held a flashlight in one hand, and a Glock 17 in the other. As he descended down the stairs the only sound that could be heard was the groaning of wood as their feet pressed down upon the stairs. When they finally reached the bottom, the silence was deafening. Aaron looked to his left and could make out the outline of a lightswitch on the far wall. He flipped it, and the fluorescent lights above buzzed to life.

The basement had been someone's personal man cave; the carpet was dark scarlet color, there was a pool table in the middle of the room, and there was a flat screen television mounted to the wall. There were two shelves along the walls that had dozens among dozens of movies and video games. What stood out to Aaron and Ryan the most was the grey gun cabinet that stood against one wall.

They spent a total of ten minutes trying to break the lock, and they both felt huge weight lift from their shoulders when the thing finally snapped and fell on the floor. Ryan gripped the cold handles of the locker and pulled them open, revealing three long guns, two handguns, and boxes of ammunition.

The weapons in particular were two Remington 870 shotguns, an M24 sniper rifle, and two Usp .45 pistols. Aaron (who had brought an empty duffel along with him) began loading the weapons and ammo into the bag while Ryan searched the other areas of the room.

"I'm thinking tomorrow I teach you how to shoot, seeing that we've got more weapons and some ammo to burn. How does that sound?" Ryan asked.

Aaron shrugged his shoulders.

"If I plan on staying alive, I'm gonna need to learn how to shoot. So that sounds great to me."

When they returned to their house after spending the day scavenging, they set about making fortifications to the house. From within the house, Ryan and Aaron nailed planks to the windows. The second floor was a good vantage point, and a chair was placed in front of one of the second floor's windows' to use as a sniper perch.

That night, Aaron sat in an office using the computer (it belonged to the house's former residents, and with the power still on the WIFI still worked fine)

monitoring the news. The CDC was working tirelessly to get a better understanding of how the sickness worked, and stayed in close contact with all health organizations across the world to report any new findings. As of now, police forces across the state were failing to fight off the hordes of dead attacking. There was no word of what the military was doing. Perfect.

The next day, Aaron sat on the roof of an SUV, looking down the long scope of the sniper rifle he and Ryan had found the previous day.

"Remember to hold the rifle steady. Don't fear it, it's just a thing. Keep your breath steady, and your aim will be much more controlled. Do you see your target?"

Aaron nodded, as he could see the target several meters away from them. They hadn't seen many of the dead in this neighborhood, but any that they _had_ seen had been removed from their plain of existence. The target that Aaron currently had in his sights was a woman in a dirty floral dress. She had a shoe missing, and half of her face had been chewed away, revealing the red, fleshy muscle tissue. She (or it)

Walked in slow, drunken gait.

Aaron focused his aim, and trained it on her forehead. He held his breath, and took the shot. The thing's head whiplashed violently as a jettison of dark red blood erupted from her skull. Pieces of skull fragments and brain matter were blown into the air as the bullet tore through its cranium. It fell to the ground, much more blood leaking from the wound.

"Nice shot. Most people I've seen can't even hit a moving target on the first try." Ryan told him while giving him a thumbs up.

They found a total of eight more dead to practice on, and Aaron had dispatched them with the same deadly accuracy that he had displayed with the first.

That night after dinner, Aaron laid in bed, unable to fall asleep.

He couldn't stay here. In fact, he was wasting valuable time. The world had taken an intense dip upside down, and he wasn't even home. He needed to get out of Georgia and back to Pennsylvania. Back to Philadelphia to find his parents. He didn't have a clue as to what they were going through, and Aaron needed to be there.

He was going to get home, no matter what the cost.


	2. Chapter 2: Unexpected Guests

It was a dreary, overcast day. Despite the dark clouds that loomed above, no rain ever fell. The sound of moans could be heard carrying on the wind, but it did not come from the suburban neighborhood. It came from the roads and towns surrounding it.

It had been a total of two weeks since Aaron and Ryan had arrived at that house and called it their temporary home. But now, things had changed. With the death toll of the plague rising, more and more undead began to appear each day. More of them were appearing in the neighborhood, and with each one Aaron and Ryan saw, the more they had to put to rest.

Aaron sat on the roof of the house, pair of binoculars held in his hands. What he saw worried him. A long, long distance away from the neighborhood, in an open field, was a group of a dozen or so biters. Yesterday he counted five. Now there were over a dozen. And Aaron knew that their numbers would only grow.

He climbed back into the house through the second story window and reported his findings to Ryan, who was cleaning his 9mm Beretta.

"There's a lot more than there were yesterday. Things are getting worse out there. The internet went down, and I guess the same has happened to all other places too. We should cook all of our uncooked food, since we've got no idea how much longer we'll have power."

Ryan nodded. "Understood."

They set about doing all they could in preparing for the worse. After cooking any meat uncooked, they set about packing bags and getting a car ready. They had arrived in the neighborhood with a police cruiser, but that was too flashy and of no use to them. Fortunately, the neighborhood was full of vehicles in good condition and would no longer be needed by their former owners.

They settled for a black Cadillac Escalade; the size would allow them to plow through any biters that were in their way, and the interior size would be perfect for all of the supplies they had with them.

However, none of them had discussed the topic of leaving much. As much as Aaron wanted to hit the road and go home, something inside of him bubbled.

Fear.

He kept asking himself what would it be like on the road? ' _Think of the constant danger you'll be in. Dead everywhere, no law enforcement to protect, no roof over your head- what the hell are you gonna do?'_

"Shut up." Aaron said to the voice in his head. He couldn't dwell on these thoughts, there was work to be done. Aaron and Ryan were in the backyard shed, going through all of the tools they should take on the road. As they worked however, Aaron was startled by the sound of something banging against the yard's tall wooden fence. Aaron walked out of the shed to see one of _them._ The biter was a boy, possibly twelve years old, maybe even less. His skin was pale as ever, and his eyes were sunken in. His mouth was open, revealing those blackened gums and incisors. His neck had a large chunk torn out of it, his arms, t-shirt and jeans spattered with dried blood.

"What do you see?" Ryan asked from within the shed. He got to his feet and brushed off his jeans. He walked out and saw what Aaron was staring at.

"Oh my god. . .poor kid. . ."

This was a mere child; no one, absolutely no one deserved a fate like this. As Aaron watched the biter pound its small hands against the wooden fence, he wondered what had happened to him. Maybe his home had been overrun, and his parents had died. Did he run away? Did he try to fight? Was he paralyzed with fear and allow the dead to bite him? These were questions that would forever remain unanswered.

"I got him." Aaron said, no emotion in his voice. He pulled out the Usp .45 that he kept in a holster on his belt, and walked over the dead boy. The eyes were white, void of any kind of life.

Aaron lifted the pistol, and trained it on the boy's' head. He fired. Aaron released a sigh of relief when he heard the boy's body drop to the grass.

Ryan approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

Aaron didn't say a word. Ryan stood there awkwardly, and then went back into the shed. When he came back out he had a red toolbox in his hand. "I'm heading over to the car to put this in. Gimme a shout if you need anything.

No one ever heard them. No one ever heard the three biters shuffling down the street, drawn to the gunshot. The three dead were only fifteen feet away from the SUV as Ryan made his way there to put the toolbox in the trunk.

"Oh shit! Aaron!" Ryan shouted.

Aaron snapped back to reality when he heard the shouts coming from Ryan. As he ran through the yard and towards the gate, he could see what was happening. His heart skipped a beat. Ryan had dropped the toolbox in surprise and had been tackled by two of the biters. He held one of them the scruff of their shirt, and the other by the neck. The third had grabbed him by the ankle, and kept attempting to bite his leg. Aaron drew his pistol and squeezed off three shots in quick succession.

Each biter dropped, blood oozing from the hole in each of their skulls.

Ryan shoved the now permanently dead bodies off of him, his face twisted into a grimace. He held a hand over his mouth, but soon gave him. Bile erupted from his mouth and spilled onto the asphalt driveway. When he finished heaving, he rose shakily to his feet, all the color from his face gone.

"T-thanks kid. They almost had me back there."

Aaron put the gun back into its holster.

"We need to leave Ryan. There are more those things every day now, and there's only gonna be more. This was too close a call, and I say we should head out."

Ryan nodded, his face still white as sheet.

"I hear you. We finish packing tonight, and we leave tomorrow at first light."

The roads were scenes of utter disaster; cars, trucks, and large utility vehicles were sprawled across the roads, wrecked or on fire. As the SUV drove along its path the passengers within witnessed horrors that no eyes should ever see.

They passed by a diner that had all of its windows smashed; thick black plumes of smoke billowed out of them and into the heavens. The dead were scattered across the roads and grassy fields surrounding the roads. They were either severely burnt, full of bullet holes, or were so badly chewed up that their gender couldn't be identified.

Aaron attempted to listen to radio only to be met with static. Funny how just days ago the radio and news were broadcasting non stop. Now, the world was as silent and desolate as a tomb.

"With the number of biters out here I'm seeing, we need to keep moving. If we can't find shelter before nightfall, we'll have to tough it out in the car. " Ryan said.

Aaron shrugged.

"No complaints from me."

Fishing through the glove compartment, Aaron produced a map of the area. They had come to the decision that they were going to make a straight trip to Pennsylvania. Aaron had outright told Ryan that he wanted to go home, and Ryan never bothered to argue. In fact, Aaron didn't know that much about Ryan before the chaos began. Ryan had given him the short version: divorced, no children, good relationship with parents, a well respected police officer. He wouldn't go into too much detail about his life however. All Aaron could figure out was that he obviously was having a difficult time leading up to everything that had happened.

Up ahead was a gruesome scene: there was an RV that had apparently crashed into a semi truck. It was a head on collision, as both vehicles were smashed together at the front and the front end were completely caved in. In the front of the wreckage were three biters, and they were all hunched over the body of. . .something. It was possibly the most disgusting and horrifying thing that Aaron had witnessed thus far.

The dead were like mindless animals, lifting dripping entrails to their mouth and devouring it like their was no tomorrow.

"Go around. I'm gonna be sick if I keep watching this." Aaron instructed.

"Already on it." Ryan said in almost a whisper.

The SUV went around the scene, drawing the attention of the three dead people. They were gone before they could even get to their feet.

As they drove on the world became much more consumed by darkness; the sky became a stormy grey, and the wind began to pick up. Yet, no rain ever fell. In the distance, large black plumes of smoke rose into the air like angered spirits ascending to the heavens. They encountered no survivors.

A loud chopping noise caught Aaron and Ryan's attention however.

"Check that out!" Aaron said.

Eight helicopters soared across the sky, all of them heading in the same direction.

"What's that way?" He asked.

Ryan ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Atlanta. Before the news went down, they were saying that the military was setting up refugee centers in the city. We're definitely not taking that direction. This thing is spreading faster than anyone can even comprehend. Would you really want to stuffed in a city full of millions of people at a time like this?"

Aaron remained silent.

"I didn't think so. The fact that the army is trying to herd everyone into one area is big mistake, and they don't even realize it yet. We stay away from densely populated areas, we survive. That's how it's going to be. Absolutely no cities."

Aaron gave Ryan a quizzical look.

"But what'll we do when we get to Philadelphia. The population there is high as well. How're we gonna handle that?"

Ryan shrugged.

"We'll cross that road when we get to it. After all, we've got a long road ahead of us."

They lucked out towards the end of the day. Aaron pointed out a gas station on the side of the road as they travelled, and the location couldn't be anymore perfect. They were officially far from the urban areas of Georgia and had finally made it to the countryside. If Ryan was correct with his calculation, they would be in South Carolina by afternoon tomorrow.

The sky was tinged with orange, and the darkness around them began to grow. After pulling up directly in front of the gas station, Ryan and Aaron got out the SUV, and approached the front door. It slid open without a sound. They searched the place from top to bottom and were relieved to find no biters.

The station's mini-mart hadn't been touched; all the stock was still there on the shelves in like new condition. The gas station was the perfect place to stay for the night.

It was at approximately 4:35am that the loud bangs started. Ryan leaped to his feet, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had slept with his jeans, boots, and dark green jacket on, ready to leave at a moment's notice. In his arms was one of the Remington 870 shotguns they had found.

"Who the fuck are you?" He shouted as he pointed the barrel of the shotgun at the glass double doors.

Aaron was asleep in the break room, but Ryan could hear him moving around back there as he stirred awake.

"Holy shit! There's someone alive in there!" Came a voice from the outside.

Ryan could then hear multiple voices coming from outside. Looking closely through the darkness, he could see the outlines of three people.

"Who the hell are you people! Don't make me ask again! I'm a cop!"

The three figures stepped back from the door.

"Easy easy! We're don't want any trouble. My friends and I came here to search for supplies. We saw your car out front and decided to knock. If you pay attention you'll see that our guns are holstered!"

Ryan slowly approached the door, and sure enough these people were being honest. Rifles were slung over backs and pistols were at their sides. Ryan lowered his shotgun.

"What do you people want?"

The man who stood in the middle answered him.

"Well, we've got a proposal for you. My group is made up of a convoy, and right now we're heading across the state for safety. Safety in numbers you know?"

Ryan looked behind him to see Aaron standing there, his pistol gripped tightly in his hands.

Could these guys seriously be trusted?


	3. Chapter 3: The Crew

**SIX MONTHS IN**

The wind had ceased, the sky was black with not a single cloud in the sky. The stars shined at their absolute brightest, and the moon was at its highest, big bright and full. The camp was full of activity; thirty eight heavily armed people stood around in a circle, completely surrounding the eight people on their knees in the dirt. The clearing was illuminated by the bright headlights of cars as well as the large campfire in the middle of the crowd. The tension was everywhere; grabbing hold of every single person in the vicinity.

A man with an M16 slung over his back paced back and forth, sizing up each of his hostages. He was dressed in faded grey cargo pants, he wore a belt with several pouches and a gun holster with a Colt .45 seated within it. He wore a kevlar vest and a red bandanna on his face. Only his lighting blue eyes were visible; eyes glowing with madness and hatred. He was very well built, with large muscles and prominent vessels.

"It didn't have to be this way y'know. My request was simple, and your answer should have been simple. Rather can cooperate, you people thought it'd be a fantastic idea to just kill four of my people. Big mistake. Big fucking mistake." He said to them like they were naughty children in need of punishment.

One of the hostages had seen better days; his left eye was swollen shut, he had a large gash across his forehead, his face was home to several scratches and bruises, and he had a seething bullet hole in his chest. The blood flow had slowed, but it kept going. The man felt very light headed and he had lost most of his color.

"The deal could have been done, and we could've went our separate ways. But due to your foolishness, things didn't go so well did they? I mean, come on. Look where we all are now. You're surrounded, out of time, and out of luck. Now I have to teach you all a lesson."

The armed man looked around at his captives, and unslung his M16.

"Well, let's begin. Starting with you. Bring him up."

Two men came forth from the crowd, and grabbed the wounded hostage by his underarms. They dragged him forth toward their leader and shoved him into the dirt before leaving him.

The wounded man, despite having his hands tied behind his back, got back onto his knees.

"You've been trouble for me especially. Yeah yeah man. I've heard a lot about you. You've got a large trail of bodies behind you asshole. You've been killing my people left and right haven't you? Don't bother denying it. I've got a ton of eye witnesses man. What do have to say for yourself?"

The hostage looked into the man's eyes, his one good eye full of rage.

"Fuck. You."

The leader sent an iron fist into the captive's jaw, knocking him onto his back.

"It's that attitude that got you in trouble. Well, seeing as though you've got nothing useful to say, I think I'll just put you outta your misery right here and now."

He raised the M16, finger on the trigger, when a voice called out to him.

"Leave him the fuck alone asshole! You want blood! Take it from me to fucking psycho!"

The leader halted, and looked at one of the other hostages. He was young.

"Yeah asshole! I'm talking to you! Untie me and I'll kill all of you motherfuckers!"

The leader burst into a fit of laughter; a laugh so maniacal that it raised the hairs of all of the hostages.

"Bring him up. I want him to see what's going to happen next close and personal."

The young hostage was forced to get up and was brought up before the leader and the wounded hostage. The leader grabbed the wounded man by his hair and forced him to look at the prisoner he had just brought up.

"This your kid or something? He adopted? Makes sense, seeing as you two are two completely different colors. Let's see how much you care."

The leader placed the barrel of the assault rifle against the young man's forehead and placed his finger on the trigger.

"NO! Leave him be!" The wounded captive shouted.

"Bingo! So, it looks like you really care about this kid. Well, now I'm at a crossroads. I've killed kids before, but it's not that enjoyable. I'll probably feel a tad bit guilty about it later."

The leader chuckled.

"Fuck it. What the hell am I saying? I probably won't feel an ounce of guilt."

"LEAVE THE BOY ALONE YOU SICK FUCK! TAKE ME INSTEAD!"

The wounded man shouted in desperation. Everything that was happening was so surreal; this was it. Not everyone was going to make it out of this situation.

"Listen my friend, someone's gotta pay for all of the bullshit that's been going on for the past few weeks. Did you honestly think you could get away with the shit you've been pulling? Hell to the fucking no! The world is different now! Don't you get that? You make a severe mistake, you wind up dead. And let me tell you friend, one of you is not leaving this place while you're still breathing. Now! I've come to my decision!"

The leader put the barrel of the gun against the skull of the wounded hostage.

The wounded man looked into the eyes of the young man, and focused on his face.

"Listen to me. No matter what happens, you are okay. Do you understand me? You are okay. You're strong, and I know you can beat this world! Never lose sight of who you are you hear me!"

The young prisoner was shaking uncontrollably by now. He wasn't ready for this. He didn't want to lose him. Not now. He didn't have-

The next moment would remain burned into the young man's mind for the remainder of his life.

The leader emptied the entirety of the thirty round magazine of the M16 into the man's skull, blasting his entire head apart. The hostage's body jerked as the skull exploded from having several rounds punch through it within seconds. Dark red arterial blood, skull fragments, and brain matter splattered the young hostage's face.

He was broken.

He fell onto his side, tears running tracks through his gore caked face. He was broken, and wanted nothing more than to go home and see his family. He wanted to embrace his parents and feel that familiar warmth again. And he was close.

Oh so close. . .

The leader wasn't entirely satisfied however. The young prisoner couldn't hear anything but the ringing in his ears, but he could clearly see what was happening.

The leader began issuing orders to his men and they all began to approach the eight other hostages. Four of the hostages were forced to their feet and loaded into cars despite their protests. When the leader himself got into his own vehicle, they sped off, leaving the young prisoner, plus the four remaining hostages behind.

The four survivors freed themselves from their bonds and rose to their feet. The young man was broken however. As of this moment, he was nothing but a sad little boy living in a world gone to hell.

 **Present**

The morning light was harsh, but it was still breathtaking. The sky was a deep blue without a single cloud to be seen. What an insult that it seemed; the dead were up and walking and terrorizing the living, and of all times it just had to look stunning.

But Aaron couldn't dwell on that for now. Right now, he was more so concerned about the people in cars behind him, and in front of him.

It was all Ryan's idea that they join this convoy. Yes, he was was glad that they had finally met more survivors, but wouldn't this slow down their trip to Pennsylvania? Aaron currently sat in the backseat of the Escalade, reading an old Stephen King novel. It was all he could do to take his mind off of things. So far he had only met a few of the convoy members. Jason, Frederick, and Derek. These were the same men that had visited them in the early hours of the morning to make contact with them. Earlier that morning when everyone had rested up and was ready to travel, Ryan had gone to apologize to them for pointing his shotgun at them. They forgave him seconds, claiming that he was right. Caution was essential to survival now.

The group seemed friendly enough, and it also seemed that it was Derek who was calling the shots. Derek was a hispanic man in his mid thirties who was pretty handy with a rifle, and seemed to be level headed. Aaron had yet to see the man under pressure, but based off the stories he had told Aaron he couldn't help but feel impressed. Derek had begun the convoy when he rescued several people from a high school being used as a refugee center. Apparently the police tried to create a safe area for civilians, and it worked out for a while. But then the officers stationed had lost contact with the police HQ, and after that they were literally on their own. As days passed and the death toll of the plague rose, more of the dead began to appear.

Derek had described how a new group of biters had arrived one day, damaged their defensed, and had begun to pour into the school. Many officers died fighting off the horde of biters and chaos erupted when the dead breached the school building. Derek's quick thinking saved at least a dozen people.

"There were a lot more people that were still in that building, and needed my help. It still makes me sick that I couldn't save any more of 'em." He said with a slightly misty look in his eye as he finished his story.

At the moment, the plan was to head to a refugee center that the army had apparently set up in a town in South Carolina. About three hours ago they had passed the border of Georgia and were now in SC. As they drove, they could see that whatever this plague was, truly was happening everywhere. Cars lay abandoned in the road in wrecks, or were scenes of pure horror. One car they passed by looked terrible; the driver's door was wide open, and the front seat was completely splattered with blood. There was a giant smear on the asphalt like something, or someone, had been dragged across the road. The blood trail lead to the tall grass that surrounded the road.

"Don't look." Was all Ryan said as they drove past. The group was doing well on fuel thus far, as they hardly stopped for anything as they travelled. The group kept in touch with each other via radio. When Ryan had agreed for he and Aaron to travel with them, they were a given a radio to stay in contact as they rode. So far it was a good setup. Days passed as the group travelled together, and Aaron grew much more comfortable with the people of the convoy. It was one day, (Wednesday) when things got interesting.

They began to encounter more biters on the road, and it was getting much more dangerous to travel. All of the dead shared a similar look: burnt, blackened clothes, filled to the brim with bullet holes. They had obviously been through some serious violence. The group had decided to take shelter in a small town they had stumbled across, and had settled down in an open field they found.

When everyone exited their vehicles, they immediately began to set up camp. It was something that Aaron had grown accustomed to. It was a routine; get out, unpack, pitch tents, cook food, and have several stay on guard with a rifle in case any biters came close to camp. Within twenty minutes, the sun began to set, casting its classic orange glow across the sky, and the survivor's camp had been set up. Several vehicles placed in strategic positions, and tents pitched at specific distances to each other, as to give each person(s) their space.

Aaron was sitting in the back of Frederick's pickup truck playing a game of chess with his twelve year old son, Saul (though his dad called him Sal.) Aaron had kept his radio nearby, and when he waited on Sal to decide his next move, would play with the dials, tuning the device to different frequencies, half hoping to find someone.

The day Aaron would make contact with another survivor would be tomorrow.


End file.
